Perfectly Normal Perfectly Understandable
by Rosawyn
Summary: First off, I hate the Draco/Hermione paring. But I do love to see Draco suffer, and besides this annoying thing kept runing around in my brain until I wrote it down. 2nd chapter now uploaded. Hope you like.
1. Chapter 1

**Perfectly Normal. Perfectly Understandable.**

Draco Malfoy was furious. How dare that filthy little Mudblood embarrass him like that in front of Crabbe and Goil, but worse in front of Potter and that terrible Weasley boy! He sniffed and angrily wiped more blood from his nose. A throbbing pain in the back of his skull reminded him of how his head had snapped back against the rock when she hit him. What a truly horrid girl!

He could take her, he told himself; it would be no problem, really. She'd just caught him off guard this time. He hadn't been expecting physical violence, and why would he? How plebian, really. Likely came from her low Muggle upbringing and her filthy Muggle blood. Any decent witch would be above such things. A simple curse or hex, not fisticuffs!

And oh how we wished for vengeance! To bring upon her the pain and humiliation he'd felt, but tenfold. But where to start? Clearly, he'd need to get her alone without Potter and that blasted Weasley around to interfere. Yes, alone was a must. He continued to ponder. It would certainly help to corner her were she couldn't run away, such as against a wall. And then he'd walk towards her, slowly and purposefully, with a smile of superiority on his lips and malevolent laughter in his eyes. He knew she would glare back at him defiantly, just begging him to show her her place.

That's when he'd stand intimidatingly close and bring his face right in close to hers, so she could feel the heat of his breath, and kiss her hard and violently— Wait! Kiss her? Where did that come from? Kiss the filthy Mudblood! It made him feel dirty just to think of it. Where would such an unthinkable idea even come from? He didn't even find the horrid girl the least bit attractive…did he?

He rested his chin in his hand and considered her looks, such as they were. She did, he admitted, have rather nice hair—the style anyway if not the drab colour. And he decided that her eyes were rather nice when they weren't flashing with hatred, which was always when he was around anyway, so that really didn't count. He didn't much like the line of her jaw, but her nose was passable as far as female noses went. And recently she was beginning to look quite more womanish in her figure… And that, he triumphantly concluded, was the crux of this! Hermione Granger was quite simply beginning to grow into a very common and rather attractive woman's form, what with somewhat shapely hips, legs, and so forth. Honestly, he told himself, there were hundreds of other girls right here in this school with figures at least as pleasing, if not more so.

And it was perfectly natural for a young man such as himself to take notice of physical attractiveness in a young woman's form, regardless of how unattractive her pedigree or personality might be. In fact, he was sure now that he'd seen none other than Ron Weasley taking notice of the womanly form of Daphne Greengrass just the other day! Ha! Stupid, crummy Weasley. But he was sure Ron would never actually want to date or have any sort of relationship with Greengrass; it was just another case of a young man noticing the attractive merits of a young woman's figure. Perfectly natural. Perfectly understandable.

He let out a relieved sigh. Of course he, Draco Malfoy, wasn't actually interested in Hermione Granger either. It all made sense now.


	2. Chapter 2: On His Own

**On His Own**

It made sense. Really it did. But every night all Draco dreamed of was Hermione. Try as he might, he could not make himself dream of any other girl (or anything else for that matter), even the ones who were clearly superior to her in every way, except, of course, academic prowess. But then, Draco simply didn't find that sort of thing attractive in a girl. So now it didn't make sense anymore.

He wondered if other guys ever faced this sort of dilemma. They likely did, he figured; he couldn't be that unique. But did other guys talk about these things? He couldn't imagine bringing the subject up with Crabbe and Goil; it would be showing weakness, and as a Malfoy he couldn't do that.

He found himself wishing for someone to talk to and cursed himself for it. He didn't need anyone to talk to! He was sure his father never needed to confide his weaknesses, if indeed Lucius had any, in anyone. So neither would he. He would learn to deal with it on his own.

* * *

I was much easier to make such resolute claims than to put them into practice. He found himself always looking for her: in class, at meals, while playing Quidditch he'd search for her in the stands. Not that she was ever watching him. He didn't kid himself.

Of course, he was careful not to be obvious. He didn't stare at her openly and was careful to glance casually away from her. Sure, he was embarrassed to be looking at her, but he wasn't about to let the world know that. Not that anyone would have noticed. Pansy was far too absorbed in her overt infatuation with him to actually notice much. As she fussed over his broken arm, Crabbe and Goil looked on stupidly with dull emptiness in their eyes, and Draco felt very alone.

"I had a dream about you last night," Pansy told him. "Do you ever dream about me?"

"You're all I ever dream about." The lie felt easy, and somehow right. More right than the truth at any rate.


End file.
